


On Any Other Day

by telperion_15



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Drama, First Time, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-29
Updated: 2010-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-10 07:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On any other day, John would have been dead right about now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Any Other Day

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 'Sateda'.

On any other day, John would have got a metaphorical rap over the knuckles for spacing out during the morning mission briefing.

“Sorry, did you say something?” he asked quickly, trying to look as if he’d been paying attention really.

But on this occasion Elizabeth merely rolled her eyes, smiled at him indulgently, and said, “Never mind, it’s not important, John. I’m sure your team can fill you in on anything important you’ve missed.”

Still smiling, Elizabeth rose from her seat and left the conference room. John glanced around at his team. Teyla and Ronon were wearing similar expressions of amusement to Elizabeth’s, while Rodney was scowling at him faintly.

John grinned at them. “So, what did I miss?” he asked easily.

“A very important discussion about my frankly brilliant plan to destroy the Wraith once and for all,” Rodney answered promptly, and a little snippily.

“Uh huh…” replied John sceptically. He didn’t see why Rodney was so pissed at him. Especially since it was _his_ fault John had spaced out in the first place.

Not that he’d ever admit that he found watching Rodney at work that distracting. Hell, he could barely even admit it to himself. And he sure didn’t have a clue why he was so fascinated by it.

Teyla cut in. “We are going to discuss a possible trading agreement with the people of M2B-925,” she said calmly.

“Well, great,” John said, smirking at Rodney. “Let’s go, then.”

*~*~*~*~*

On any other day, they probably would have taken a puddle jumper on the mission.

It was Teyla who suggested walking (much to her later dismay), citing the shorter than average distance from the Stargate to the Martesh settlement they were visiting. And John, despite Rodney’s very audible grumbling, was inclined to agree with her.

“The fresh air and exercise will do you good, McKay,” he pointed out gravely.

That didn’t dial down Rodney’s grumbling one iota, but it did elicit the Glare of Death™, Mark 4.

John just smirked in response.

The wormhole kawooshed into existence, and John shepherded his team towards it.

“Come on, McKay. Last one to the settlement is a big fat loser,” John teased.

The glare went up to Mark 5.

*~*~*~*~*

On any other day, John might have noticed the signs earlier.

In his defence, they weren’t obvious, and it wasn’t until they were fairly close to the settlement that they realised that the Martesh had been culled. And recently.

It was the few remaining people that kind of gave it away. Probably something to do with the way they suddenly appeared from among the ruins of the huts and shacks, looking pretty unfriendly and holding rather a lot of weapons. _Pointy_ weapons.

Teyla stepped forward. “Do not be afraid,” she began. “We are friends from…”

But either they didn’t recognise her, or they didn’t care _where_ she was from. John and his team might not look like Wraith, but that didn’t seem to matter to the Martesh. Obviously they didn’t trust visitors of _any_ kind right now.

A loud, angry yell, interrupted Teyla’s words, and all the Martesh started shaking their weapons.

Rodney took a step back. “Um, maybe we should leave?”

John took another look at the now _very_ unfriendly-looking natives, and nodded. “Good idea.”

And then they were running.

*~*~*~*~*

On any other day, John would have been dead right about now.

Tripping over a fucking tussock of grass was the rookiest of rookie mistakes. And not looking where he was going was something _Rodney_ would do, for crying out loud.

He lay face down in the dirt, and waited for the arrows to turn him into some kind of human pin-cushion. It was inevitable – the Martesh had been pretty close behind them, and John’s team had had few opportunities for keeping them at bay with gunfire or anything like that. Running was the order of the day, so run they had.

Until John had fallen over.

No arrows yet. Odd. But just as he was contemplating looking back over his shoulder to see how close his impending death was, a deafening burst of gunfire made him duck again instinctively.

“Well, are you going to get up any time soon, Colonel, or is my cover fire going to have been a _spectacular_ waste of time?”

It was Rodney. Rodney had come back for him. Choosing not to think too closely about that, John did as he was told and scrambled to his feet.

The natives had fallen back momentarily in the face of a sustained hail of bullets, and John took the breathing space he’d been given and grabbed Rodney’s arm, dragging him away in the direction of the Stargate. In the distance he could see Teyla dialling, and he waved her and Ronon on, reaching the gate with Rodney about thirty seconds later.

“Through you go, McKay,” John said, prodding him forward.

But Rodney resisted, instead turning to scowl at John. “Don’t say _thank you_ or anything, will you, Colonel?”

John opened his mouth to protest that now was so _not_ the time to be debating manners and social niceties, but he never got the chance, because right at the moment Rodney got shot.

*~*~*~*~*

On any other day John might have shared in Beckett’s long-suffering amusement at Rodney’s plight.

But for some reason, just this once, it wasn’t all that funny.

“Look at it this way, Rodney,” Beckett said, as he hooked Rodney up to a morphine drip. “Now you’ll have a matching set of scars.”

Rodney’s glare had definitely reached Mark 10 by this point. “Has anyone ever told you your bedside manner sucks, Carson?” he snapped at the doctor. Then he turned his ire on John. “Nothing to add, Colonel?” he asked withering. “No witty observation on the situation? No snappy joke to make at my expense?”

John shrugged. “Guess I’m fresh out of witty observations,” he replied.

That seemed to deflate Rodney’s anger a little. “Oh. Well, thank you, I suppose.”

“You saved my life, Rodney,” John told him seriously. “You’ve earned a bit of a reprieve on the snappy jokes for once.”

Rodney frowned at him, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, but then appeared to decide that John was being genuine. “Okay…”

“Right, Rodney,” Beckett interrupted. “As soon as the drugs kick in, we’ll see about getting that arrow out of you.

Sighing, Rodney glared at him again, although the expression was rapidly losing its potency thanks to the morphine flowing through his system. “Oh, goody.”

Out of Rodney’s line of sight, John allowed himself a small smile as he eyed the arrow protruding from Rodney’s ass cheek. Maybe it was a little bit funny after all…

*~*~*~*~*

On any other day, John probably wouldn’t have kissed Rodney McKay.

Beckett had let Rodney out of the infirmary on the proviso that he went back to his quarters and rested. And no, that did not include a detour to his lab, or the mess hall, or anywhere else.

John had volunteered to act as minder, much to Rodney’s annoyance, but he was fairly sure that neither of them had imagined that the job would involve such up-close-and-personal attention.

John himself certainly had been planning on it. But seeing Rodney standing there in the middle of his quarters, looking pale and a little lost, had reminded John how he’d felt as he’d dragged Rodney through the Stargate earlier that day, and suddenly he couldn’t hold himself back.

It was only when Rodney hissed suddenly in pain that John realised that he’d backed him against the wall, a position that probably wasn’t too comfortable for someone who was supposed to be keeping pressure off their ass.

“Oops, sorry,” John said, not sure if he was just apologising for the pain, or for something else too.

“Um, it’s fine,” Rodney replied, eyes slightly glazed in a way that was good for John’s ego. “Just, hang on a minute…”

And John suddenly found himself flipped so that he was the one being pressed against the wall. Rodney was looking at him, a little speculative, and a little annoyed.

“Much as I hate having to say it, my ass is kind of off limits at the moment.” Rodney pressed closer, and John let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “However, there are other parts of my anatomy that could _definitely_ do with some attention…”

John smirked, and then took him at his word, suddenly glad that this wasn’t any other day.


End file.
